


Anywhere but Hope

by Noblehunter



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Prince!Keith, Royalty AU, So-called drabble, Voyerism (auditorism?), guard!Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 10:03:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20374963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noblehunter/pseuds/Noblehunter
Summary: Princes have no privacy but sometimes it’s their guards that suffer.





	Anywhere but Hope

Shiro would rather be anywhere else than Prince Kogane’s bedroom. Considering he wasn’t just the most senior of the prince’s guard, the most honourable and prestigious position in the entire imperial household, but also thrice Champion of the Imperial Arena and—to hear some tell it—the man who single-handedly won the war of the Lost Centuries, rather be anywhere else was saying something.

But he would go back to the Battle of Forsaken Suns where he led the Coalition forces to their first victory despite the lost of every other commander over the rank of Major. If it would free him from this duty, he’d go back to the Siege of Arcadia when they were feeding the bodies of the dead into reclaimers for ammunition (he had not, contrary to rumour fed his own arm into the damned things). If it meant he didn’t have to stand here, he would refight the Seventh Battle of the Void again when he escorted the Traitor Prince and the Last Princess in the final battle against Zarkon, where he and Prince Kogane together had struck down the monster Sendak and held the line while the Traitor Prince slew his own father.

Anything. _Anything_. Anything else that to stand there in a dark room and listen to his prince whimper and moan as his liege and closest friend worked himself to climax. He couldn’t see anything through the heavy curtains around the bed but he could hear every last damnable sound: the slick glide of the prince’s hand on his cock, the gasps as he worked himself up to the edge, and the moans as he denied himself release. Shiro was very determinedly not speculating if he’d heard the prince work something into his body earlier. Nor was he listening for a name, trying to hear who the prince was imagining in bed with him; who he was begging with soft words.

The prince said nothing incriminating. No sign that he wished for a metal hand on his body or scarred skin pressed against his. For all Shiro knew, the prince dreamt of soft curves and gentle kisses; he pictured a boyish grin and youthful enthusiasm. Or just a faceless lover with hands and lips and cock but no identity beyond the frenzied need of the moment.

But still, Shiro listened and hoped.


End file.
